La Soirée Gothique
by Oreithyia
Summary: It is said dancing is the best way to find a partner, someone that one can connect with and cooperate with to perform together in all things. How much more so if the combination is automatic and effortless?


Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Knight, or anything associated with it whatsoever. Alas, and woe.

La Soirée Gothique

The salle de bal was hidden beneath the polished, imported marble floors of the entry halls to the Moon Dorm, well away from the prying eyes of reckless Sun Dorm students who may try steal a look through the crystalline glass of the arching gothic windows adorning the exterior of the ornate edifice. He understood well the carved columns and sweeping staircases, the silk and velvet fabrics, Persian rugs and Savonnerie carpets, the filigrees and cameos woven in precious metals carved into glossy stone and rare wood, and the priceless antiques and matchless works of art tastefully decorating the Dorm he presided over astonished the simple humans. The level of luxury and aesthetic excellence his kind surrounded themselves with, despite the whispers of awe he overhead that compared the décor and atmosphere to that of a villa, manor, or chateau, was not satisfied by the restrained display of elegance in foyer and receiving rooms.

Secluded away in the sanctuary of the welcoming arms of the earth, cool, calm, and quiet, was a room dedicated to terpsichorean remedies. The sweeping grand staircase descended in an imposing cascade of polished obsidian and sculpted gold into the cavernous ballroom. The tremendous hall opened before them, glittering and ornate, regal and imposing. The ancient illumination of primal fire blazed in fretted lanterns, embellished braziers, and flickered atop lean candles set in baroque candelabras, glinting on gold and silver, reflecting of polished mirrors, and glittering in the thousands of prismatic crystals in the numerous chandeliers.

Towering Corinthian columns supported the viewing gallery above the dance floor, reaching the vaulted ceiling and its frescos; vibrant, detailed, and terrifying, displaying the history of people subsumed in torrents of hot blood. An aureate symphony echoed through the chamber, touching the sinister portraits as an orchestra of somnambulant virtuosos performed as marionettes manipulated by master puppeteer, unknowing, obedient, and loyal. The cries of strings, the heart beat of percussion, and the flow precious breath was given freely to the creation of a charming, entrancing, enthralling nocturne.

Satin, snowy white, pristine, pure, floated soundlessly through the perfumed air with the fluidity of melody as the lone dancers glided over the glossed parquet. The fabric of delicate dress brushed against black silk, a flutter of innocent touch against the totality of the dark.

Kaname marveled at the way she moved. Clumsy and klutzy by all appearances, when dancing with him, Yuki moved with inherent grace, following his lead effortlessly, flowing like the purest quicksilver, beautiful and toxic to the senses. Every subtle shift of his hand, his large palm against her slender one, fingertips brushing fingertips, she reacted to flawlessly. Her every step, every turn was whisper quiet and smooth. Her instincts were perfectly in tune with his. He felt the light press of her hand against his as she unconsciously sought to bend his arms, allowing her to step closer to him, to close the distance he held between them.

Her dress brushed against the side of his trouser as he smoothly turned her in his gentle hold. His much taller build and broader frame, swathed in obsidian silk blacker than the void, towering ominously over her. He had seen in her mind the dress she had always wanted to wear. It was a secret she kept buried away, hardly acknowledging it to herself. Yuki focused on what her adoptive father and the Kiryu twin needed from her. She put her energies into supporting and caring for them. The dress she hid away in the shadowed depths of her mind was a petty thing compared to her family, a trinket crushed to meaningless in the face of her priorities. Besides, were would she wear such an expensive thing even if she could afford it? He hoped one day to present the dress to her when she was fully aware, to see her face as she was presented with something she deeply wanted but considered unobtainable.

Kaname easily spun her small frame in his arms. For a moment her innocent and honest face came close by the collarbone bridging powerful his shoulders. She sighed, inhaling his scent and savoring the familiarity. She recognized her safety with him, the sense of belonging that could not be explained yet could not be misunderstood.

Soft, silky, chocolate colored strands of hair brushed against each other as he spun her back out to rejoin hands, facing each other. Her lowered lashes obscured cinnamon colored eyes, the delicate sable fan brushing against skin made unnaturally pale by blood flow hypnotically slowed. If he released her hand and svelte waist, she would slowly sink to the ground to fall peacefully into a quiet sleep.

He lowered his dark head, thick, heavy hair framing his face, to inhale her scent, to remind himself of how frail she was. How vulnerable. For a moment, through sharp, predatory eyes deceptively serene, bleeding luminous crimson, he looked for the line of flowing life beneath the tender ivory skin. A tangle of veins and arteries, thin and fine, curling and twining their way through her petite frame, nourishing soft flesh and delicate bones. The seductive lacework pattern was easily read, the lines and curls clear and beckoning. The pulsing call of her blood, sirenic and heady, flowed along in enchanting rivulets up her collar bone, into her throat, over her delicate chin and spread along her soft cheek to just touch her gently parted lips, the breath passing between them slow and even. Tranquil. He was not forcing her docile behavior; it was all of her own accord. Intuitive. Instinctive. It was natural and absolute that they should be with one another.

So simple to lower his eager mouth to the soft, pliant skin of her throat. To lightly brush his lips against the sensitive flesh there, to feel and taste the creamy texture and the way she surrendered to him, to his hunger. Nibbling with reverent teeth, laving with a velvet tongue until the anticipation of pain from the impalement of razor fangs disappeared and she relaxed against him.

The moment passed. It was too tempting, too disheartening, to linger on the want any longer. He had already had a torturously brief hint of what her blood would taste like, flowing over his tongue and down his awaiting throat. The memory of the night Aido had dared puncture Yuki's flesh and taken her blood for himself, committed the treason and sought after her neck, still caused a black hatred to rise up behind his eyes.

Aido still had no concept of just how close he had come to being beheaded.

Kaname had to deny his want, no matter how fundamental. He understood Juri's hopes for their princess, Haruka's concerns for her, the danger Rido presented to her. His knowledge of the repercussions of his actions warred violently with his own desires.

While trapped as a human she was diminished, weakened, hobbled; always at risk of being crushed by people and forces that were her birthright to rule and command. And by his honor he was bound to leave her without the protection and guidance it was his own fate and privilege to provide. The drive to break the seal, to return her to herself, to return her to _him_, was crushing.

For now, a only simple dance with one another protected from the prying eyes of others in treasured solitude, in a dress she felt she could never have, with a closeness both of them craved but neither could have, was all he could offer her to console either of them. He would return her to her room to wake in the morning with nothing but a surreal disquiet to suggest something was amiss. It would only contribute to the discomfort and chaos he could feel invading her mind, cracks appearing in the seal as she fought against the terrors of what she could not remember.

He hoped she would forgive him.

* * *

AN: Nothing much to say about this one. I was disappointed by how poorly my other VK piece was received, and had decided to abandon this fandom, when a timely review by **xxxfallenskyxxx** appeared. I was touched enough to be inspired to right another little scene.

Therefore, this is piece is dedicated to **xxxfallenskyxxx**.

Review if you like it!

EDIT: Fail on my part. I uploaded the wrong file. Man, that is so embarrassing. Thank you to **Nagasasu** from being kind enough to tell me. Now if you all will excuse me, I'm going to go make some tea so I can pout properly.


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